


To Break a Cowboy

by Zasa



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 08:48:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17342294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zasa/pseuds/Zasa
Summary: Captured by Colm, Arthur wakes fully clothed. That doesn't last long.





	To Break a Cowboy

He woke to a ring in his ears and the predominantly moldered scent of the underground. Then the pain came - rushed back with the all the fire that had knocked him out in the first place. Or second, or third. He had lost count of his brief conscious moments, aware only that every one of them had been filled with O'Driscolls. This time was no different.

"Arthur Morgan."

He grunted a reply while his brain spun in all directions, trying to find the right one. He realized now, by being eye-level with the O'Driscoll's knees, that he was tied upside down, and his mind ignored the orientation problem to remind him of his searing injuries. He'd been shot, he felt that was certain, though his remembrance of it was just as gapped as how he got there.

“Where's Dutch?" Arthur croaked.

"Oh, he's going to be so mad."

A chill shot down Arthur's spine. Colm. 

Colm O'Driscoll stepped back, allowing Acthur view of the shit-eating grin plastered to his ugly face. "Hello, there, Old friend."

"We ain't..." Arthur paused, feeling dangerously faint. He couldn't afford to go out with Colm O'Driscoll at his side. He might never wake again. "...friends," he finished, blinking until his vision stopped tunneling.

Colm laughed, a sound that unnerved him more than wolves howling at his heels. "Where's Dutch, you son of a bitch?" he repeated.

"Looking for you. I imagine. You're his weakness, you know. He has few, but you... well there's no doubt in my mind he'll come searching for his boy, even if that means coming into my heavily guarded camp."

Arthur tilted his chin and spat. It arched over his face hit the dead center of Colm's boot. Colm growled, and the next thing Arthur knew, he was hitting the ground, skull first. He blacked out and woke to a hand in his hair and Colm's heel in his back.

"Now, now Mr. Morgan, calm down. You're going to wear yourself out before we even get started." Colm rucked up Arthur's shirt, grabbed his belt, and cut it.

"What in the hell are you doing?" Arthur snapped, tasting dirt, feeling a hand crawl up his bare back. His hands were still bound, now tied to the leg of a table. The whole thing shifted as he struggled. The blade poked into his skin. 

"Easy now, Morgan. Let me have my fun." Colm sliced Arthur's jeans from the waist to the foot, ripping them off him, exposing Arthur's skin to chilled night air. Colm groped the firm globes of Arthur’s ass, nails biting flesh.

Arthur bucked. "Get off me you sick-"

An elbow slammed into the back of his head, knocking him unconscious for a few precious seconds. He was roused by the weight digging into his calves. Colm gingerly spread his cheeks apart, as though this was a meeting of lovers rather than rape. A wet finger grazed against Arthur's hole, causing him to jerk.

"I'll kill you," Arthur said.

"Mhmm, I'm sure you will, Arthur, now relax or this is going to hurt more than it has to."

Colm's finger slid inside, pain blooming as it delved deeper. Colm spat on his hole and added a second finger, one in which Arthur gritted his teeth through so as not to cry out. 

"That's right. Good boy."

"You bastard," Arthur began, but suddenly Colm hit a spot that brought stars (the good kind) behind his eyes and sent him gasping. Christ, he thought, what was that?

Colm hit the spot again, a moan ripping from Arthur's throat. Colm leaned down to plant kisses against Arthur's neck. Arthur was growing hard.

"Stop," he pleaded. You don't have to do this. Dutch-"

“This has little to do with him, Arthur. Unless you want it to." Colm pulled his fingers free and shifted higher until he was straddling Arthur's hips. The feel of skin against skin had Arthur bucking.

"Get off me, now," he barked, but Colm was spreading him open again, the hard press of his dick teasing Arthur’s hole. Arthur wished he'd pass out again, could sleep through what was coming, because what had already happened was going to scar him for life.

Colm pressed inside him, stretching him wider than his fingers. Arthur gasped, with pain this time. "Goddammit," he hissed, fighting once again against the table that trapped him.

"Relax, I said," Colm snapped, pressing down on the back of Arthur's neck. "Come on. Just pretend I'm Dutch."

The words stunned him. And suddenly he was thinking about Dutch. Dutch's hands squeezing his ass. Dutch's weight on top of him. Dutch's dick--

Colm slammed into Arthur, burying his dick to the hilt, eliciting a scream from the man beneath him and a moan of bliss from his own lips. "That's right." He began to rock his hips, Arthur tight around him. "You want your daddy to fuck you, don't you boy? It's always been obvious."

Arthur burned. With pain. With shame. And those feelings only worsened as Colm began fucking him. Actually fucking him, reaching a rhythm that stole Arthur's breath away. "Dutch," he gasped, regretting it as soon as it was on his tongue.

Instead of laughing Colm combed fingers Through Arthur's hair, a loving gesture that sent a fire to the pit of Arthur's belly. Colm began plowing relentlessly into him, moans dotting his words. "Lift your, hips, boy."

Arthur did, too lost in the fantasy to argue. God knew how long he had wanted this, wanted. his mentor to bend him over and fuck the life out of him. 

As a hand clasped Arthur's dick and tugged, he came with a force that seized his whole body, left him screaming and collapsing to the ground while Dutch came inside him, filling him with hot liquid. The sensation made his spent dick twitch. He wanted Dutch's mouth on him now, tongue gliding over every vein, his mustache grazing his sensitive skin. He wanted Dutch to tell him how much he loved him, that he'd always be safe. But as Colm pulled out and cum began to cool on Arthur’s skin, reality hit him like a gut punch. He wasn't safe. Dutch didn't love him like that. And he had just let Colm O'Driscoll have his way with him.

Arthur threw up right where he lay.

"On now don't be like that,"Colm said, zipping his jeans. "Maybe I'll be nice and lock Dutch down here with you before I slit his throat. My boy." Colm was still cackling as he left Arthur bare and tied, slamming the cage door between them shut.


End file.
